


The Grand Reveal (is not so grand)

by lumateranlibrarian



Series: Out of 221B... [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sherlock AU, and Thorin Oakenshield is still an ex-army doctor, in which Bilbo Baggins is still a consulting detective, oh and Dis is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:43:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumateranlibrarian/pseuds/lumateranlibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I spent the last three years convincing myself that it wasn’t my fault. How could you do that to me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grand Reveal (is not so grand)

It was all-too-obvious to Thorin that Dis was hiding a smirk as he removed her jacket from her shoulders and hung it on the wall. Thanks to some subtle interventions and his own careful designs, Thorin’s plans for the evening so far had gone off without a hitch. Operation  _ Treat Dis like the Delightful and Awe-Inspiring Queen She Is _ was go. 

 

(The title had not been Thorin’s idea. It belonged solely to David, his brother-in-law, whose only demand for not being able attend tonight was that he get to name the ‘objective’. Thorin had protested desperately, there being a significant amount of older-sibling pride at stake, but with no success.)

 

He waited for Dis to sit--again, with the subtle but not entirely unkind sensation of being laughed at--and then took his place across from her at the small table. A previously-dormant part of him wanted to reach out and muss her hair, but Dis would probably seek revenge for that, so he resisted. 

 

The restaurant he’d chosen was a high-end Italian place that David had recommended. It was, truth be told, a tad out of Thorin’s price range, but tonight was special. The look on Dis’ face once she’d realized where they were going had been priceless. It was a calculating expression, a perfect, indignant blend of  _ “Now, I know you’re planning something” _ and “ _ but how much do I really care?” _ Belatedly, Thorin had wished for a camera.

 

A woman in a sharp black dress appeared at their table, as though she’d only been waiting for them to settle. She placed two slender, leather-bound folders on the table. “Your menus. The chef’s special today is an herb-potato gnocchi…”

 

Thorin waited, letting Dis pick the meal courses, though he made a point to ask about the drinks. Nonalcoholic, of course, though various reasons applied.

 

“Someone will be out to mix your beverages momentarily,” the stewardess told them with a blinding smile. “Would the two of you like a pair of candles for the table?”

 

Thorin met his sister’s eyes and folded his hands on the table. “I don’t think that’s necessary, do you,  _ dear sister?” _ he addressed Dis.

 

“Not at all,  _ brother mine,” _ Dis beamed. She looked up drily at the stewardess. “We’ll do without, thank you.”

 

To her credit, their server remained unruffled, and as she left to attend other tables, Thorin rolled his eyes heavily, his sentiment clear in the air between them.

 

Dis snorted and leaned back in her chair. “Damned if  _ I _ know. It’s not as if we’re throwing ourselves at each other.” She laughed quietly, and her expression sobered into something gentler. “I’m glad we got a chance to do this, Thorin. You deserve it.”

 

Thorin saw his opportunity and jumped on it enthusiastically. He shook his head.  _ “You _ deserve it, Dis. I don’t know what I would have done without you these last three years.”

 

Dis smiled softly. There were so many unspoken words between them, words that Thorin had made it his mission tonight to get out into the open.

 

“I know that… after I came back from Afghanistan I did a shit job of coming home,” Thorin admitted. Dis would understand his meaning. “I left you alone with Fili and Dave, but no one else, and of all the things I’ve done that I’ve regretted, that might be the one highest on the list.”

 

_ Might _ be. There were several things Thorin had tried and failed to stop blaming himself for over the years.

 

Dis’ expression grew slightly annoyed but also very fond as she began to catch on.  _ You idiot, _ she seemed to be laughing.  _ You’ve nothing to thank me for. _

 

“Even when I started to get better, I didn’t go back,” Thorin continued, and grimaced down at the table. He thought of hazel eyes and quick, tapping fingers. “With…  _ him,  _ I felt like I had a purpose again. I was helping him save lives. And because the nightmares were still there, all the flashbacks from the war, I thought--I  _ convinced _ myself that it was better for everyone that I stayed where I was.”

 

A new waiter approached with a drink mixer in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other, but Thorin ignored the man. He reached across the table and took Dis’ hand in his.

 

“I could not have been more wrong.”

  
  


~

  
  


_ Thorin. _

 

For Bilbo, to see his face for the first time in three years was like an icy splash of water to the face, unless it was more like something glowing and warm spreading through his chest. The mixed sensation was extremely disconcerting, but at the moment, he couldn’t be arsed to care.

 

_ Thorin! _

 

Bilbo stared longingly (yes,  _ longingly, _ he could admit it to himself now) at the familiar figure sitting across the room. Had he always been so damnably tall? Thorin was frowning and intent, dressed in a grey suit with a dark blue tie. He’d grown a  _ beard, _ apparently, although the effect wasn’t unpleasant. The strong line of his shoulders was still the same, even as he leaned forward earnestly to take the woman’s hand.

 

_ Blue eyes, black hair, little bit of grey there, chignon, maternity-fitted sheath dress, modest heels. Holding eye contact, at ease with intimate physical contact, no candles or other mood-setters, condition  _ again _ obvious from the curvature of the spine and stomach. Nose shape, eye color, both match, early to mid-thirties, at least one hundred seventy centimeters tall. _

 

The analysis was instinctive and the answer was instant. The woman was obviously Dis Vinson, née Oakenshield.

 

Bilbo strode forward smoothly, curbing his excitement. It was easy to act as if he belonged there in the restaurant. He grabbed a pair of wine glasses from the bar, and when a server’s back was turned he snagged a drink mixer off a nearby stand. As he reached Thorin’s table, ready to reveal himself, he caught the flow of their conversation.

 

“... more for me than you should have--no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Thorin admonished sternly at his sister’s snort of derision. “You would have had every right to turn away from me, but you didn’t. After Bilbo died--”

 

Bilbo managed not to fumble the glasses as he heard his own name.

 

“--I would have drunk myself into a ditch if you hadn’t pulled--”

 

Glass shards flew and liquid splattered everywhere.

  
  


~

  
  


Thorin jerked in surprise and outrage as his lap was doused. Growling, he stood up, and brushed away the worst of the mess with a cloth napkin. Then he turned to glare down at the waiter.

 

At first, it didn’t make sense what he was seeing, like a simple maths problem that had been added up wrong. Curly hair, hazel eyes. Round lips and a twitchy nose. But that couldn’t possibly be right, because Bilbo Baggins was dead.

 

Thorin blinked, and frowned. He catalogued the man before him. It  _ was _ Bilbo.

 

It was  _ Bilbo. _

 

It was Bilbo Baggins, who was staring up at him with a horrified expression, soundlessly mouthing words with a slightly unfocused gaze. Thorin reached out to touch (he needed to  _ test) _ but Bilbo suddenly snapped back to the present and jerked a half step back with a stuttered gasp, just out of Thorin’s reach.

 

That, more than anything, convinced Thorin. He swallowed, and forced himself to speak.

 

“Not dead, then?” he asked hoarsely.

  
  


~

  
  


_ … would have drunk myself into a ditch if you hadn’t _

 

_ … drunk myself into a ditch _

 

_ Thorin, what did I do to you? _

  
  


~

  
  


“I…”

 

Thorin waited for Bilbo to finish, no, to  _ start _ an explanation, his fury steadily growing. But then Dis made a quiet, frustrated noise.

 

Thorin chuckled humorlessly. “Oh, but where are  _ my _ manners? Dis, allow me to introduce you to Bilbo Baggins. You might remember me having mentioned him once or twice. How I watched him commit suicide right in front of me.”

 

The restaurant had fallen silent at the scene unfolding, but Thorin couldn’t care less. He was preoccupied. He wanted to  _ hurt _ Bilbo in this very moment.

 

Bilbo gathered himself.

 

“I didn’t have a choice, Thorin. You don’t know what Bolg--”

 

“Didn’t have a  _ choice?” _ Thorin hissed, gaining momentum. “I watched you  _ die, _ believing there was nothing I could do. I felt your  _ pulse, _ as you were lying  _ cold _ and  _ still _ on the sidewalk. No choice can justify that!” His voice was getting louder.

 

“They would have--”

 

“I spent the last three years convincing myself that it wasn’t my fault. How could you do that to me?”

 

“It was never y--”

 

Thorin’s hand snapped out and fisted the front of Bilbo’s waistcoat before he even knew he’d moved. Bilbo’s eyes widened and his mouth clicked shut. 

 

Thorin gritted his teeth and fought to bring his temper down. It was as though all the conversations and exercises with his therapist since Bilbo’s death (not-death? faked-death?) had never happened. He took a deep breath and consciously loosened his fingers.

 

“You betrayed me. Get out. Don’t come back.”

 

Thorin left the restaurant.

  
  


~

  
  


Dis pushed herself up and out of her chair, a few seconds too slow to catch Thorin’s arm. She tracked her brother with her eyes, making a quick calculation, and turned to look at the desolated little man in front of her.

 

As unbelievable as it was, she almost felt a twinge of pity for him. Then she recalled the sounds of her older brother sobbing late at night, the result of nightmares turned panic attacks. Holding his nephew in his arms was the only thing that could calm Thorin down. After a moment of consideration, any empathy she might have felt towards Bilbo Baggins fled.

 

“Thorin may not want to hit you, but I have no such reservations,” she offered lightly. She took a half-step back for balance, and promptly followed through with her threat. It was more than a bit awkward, being six months pregnant as she was, but knuckles met jaw when Baggins made no move to dodge. He fell hard, not unconscious, but undoubtedly in a great deal of pain and disorientation.

 

With a satisfied huff, she grabbed her clutch and her coat and went after Thorin. She shouldered through the door and into the night air, scanning her surroundings as she pulled on her gloves. 

 

She found her brother walking unsteadily down the street, away from the restaurant. 

 

“Thorin!” she called. She walked as quickly as she could while holding the curve of her abdomen steady. “Wait. Sweetheart, look at me.” She caught his shoulder just as he passed under an awning, and they stood there in the shadow before a darkened store window.

 

Thorin bore all the signs of being barely able to maintain his composure. His eyes were tight, and his lips were pressed down in a thin, pale line. His shoulders were hunched. His fists were trembling, and the tendons on his wrists and neck were taut. He stared at her desperately, and it  _ hurt, _ god, did it hurt Dis to know that she had no answers for him.

 

“He. That was,” Thorin began, but stopped and swallowed hard. He tried again. “Dis, I…  _ Dis.” _

 

She took his face in her hands. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

  
Thorin broke down into her shoulder and cried.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write, so thanks for reading! I'm still a bit new to the fic game and constructive criticism/comments are appreciated!


End file.
